The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The fasten seat belt sign finally blinked off and a stewardess came by and handed us our beers. I took a few sips before turning my attention back to the map that John had spread out on the tray table. It was topographical, showing a small, mountainous island surrounded by deep blue seas.

“We land at the airport here, and the resort is right there on the coast,” explained John, pointing to some dots that had been penciled in on the map. John Evans is my friend, my fellow classmate and my secret crush.

I watched as he proceeded to tell me yet again what we’d be doing on our spring break adventure. “The village that we want to visit is a couple of hours hike up this trail,” he informed me, tracing a scraggly red line with his finger.

John is a slim young man of medium height with dreamy brown eyes, shaggy auburn hair, sweetly pouting lips and a delicately boned face that made my insides just melt and my cock move inside my pants every time our eyes would meet. He is just drop dead gorgeous.

I’d met John around campus our freshman year, and fell head over heals in lust with him. Unfortunately, I came around to the understanding right away that I could never have him.

John was as straight as they came, but that wasn’t really the problem. It’s not that I was afraid of attempting to seduce a beautiful straight man. I’ve always liked a challenge, and if a guy really turned my gears, I’d make a play for him. The real problem would come afterwards, though. Succeed or fail, tongues would wag, and before you knew it I would be outed, which would be a disaster.

We were both juniors at a very stuffy, upper crust school that will go unnamed in this story, a southern college located deep in the bible belt.

It’s a very conservative university, with connections to many religious and political organizations throughout the state. A top school like this would open many doors for me in the future, but for now it was a precarious place for a young man such as myself to be.

If word of my sexual preferences were to ever leak out, my scholarship might very well be yanked out from under me. So I’d been forced to ignore my attraction to John and keep him strictly in the friend zone. Graduation seemed like it was a million years away.

“So that’s the village where they practice voodoo?” I asked teasingly, trying not to crack a smile. John was so cute when he was trying to be serious.

“For the last time, It’s not called voodoo,” corrected John with an exasperated sigh. “It’s called Obeah. O-bee-aah. It’s a traditional religion brought from Africa to the Caribbean by slaves hundreds of years ago.” John and I were both majoring in anthropology, and he was obsessed with the subject and all things associated with it.

“These people practice a form of Obeah, but it’s different. I guess it stands to reason, seeing as this island is isolated from most all of the other islands that practice it. So the professor wants us to document how and why they differ, and with that he hopes he can bolster some grand Darwinian social theory that he’s been working on.”

When our professor had suggested this quest for some extra credit, it hadn’t taken much to convince John to go. Convincing me had been even easier. Ten days on some exotic Caribbean island with the hottest guy in school, and all I had to do was work a camera? It was a no-brainer.

“And they really believe in sorcery and black magic?” I asked.

“Yes, and that’s what’s so fascinating about the place, Bill! It’s so isolated and completely untouched by modern society. We’ll really be breaking some new ground by being the first to study these people.”

He finished off his beer, folded up the map, leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. I did the same, dreaming of white sand beaches, blue water and John wearing only a skimpy little speedo. We both quickly drifted off for a nice long nap.

The stewardess woke us as the plane was landing, and after gathering up our bags we stepped down a set of stairs to the tarmac. The hot sun beat down on our heads as we trudged through stifling humidity to a small building where they inspected our passports and sent us on our way. A beat up taxi was idling at the curb, and after we’d loaded our bags in the trunk we took off.

The roads by the airport were paved, but as we drove further on they turned from asphalt into rough gravel, with very few signs of upkeep. The road hugged the coast, and on one side could be seen the thick jungle crowded with strange tropical trees and plants, while on the other side picture postcard white sand beaches stretched as far as the eye could see. John had been right. The island was almost pristine, untouched by developers and construction.

The resort was small but well kept up. We checked in at the front desk and an older gentleman, probably in his early, maybe late sixties came forward to shake hands and introduced himself as Maurice, the manager of the resort. He was of middle height, slim with a weathered brown face.

He held onto my hand for just a moment too long, and gave me a beaming smile and an approving look before helping us load our bags onto a cart. My gay-dar immediately went off inside my head, red lights flashing, sirens wailing. I cast a quick glance at John but he was oblivious.

I’m a pretty good judge of people, and from the vibe he gave off, the look he’d given me and the intimate handshake I felt for sure that he was gay. I’m not into older men, but even so my cock twitched inside my pants, eager to get out and explore. I’d been living like a monk at school, and besides the occasional jerk off session I hadn’t had sex for months on end.

“I’m so very happy that you have come to visit us on our wonderful island,” said Maurice in a French accent so thick you could have cut it with a knife. “You’ll find that it’s a paradise, untouched by the outside world!”

He insisted on escorting us to our bungalow, one of many scattered around the resort, all snuggled into the thick tropical landscaping. He opened the door for us and even brought our bags inside. It wasn’t the best room I’d ever stayed in, but it was clean and neat.

“There you are, Sir,” said Maurice as he finished unloading the cart. John pulled out his wallet and tried to slide a few dollars into his hand, but he refused with a smile. “Let me know if there is anything you need, anything at all,” he told us as he left. His tone of voice told me that he really did mean anything.

John wasted no time in getting comfortable. I sat on the bed and tried not to stare as he shed his traveling clothes right in front of me. Wearing only his boxer shorts, he whipped out his cell phone and paced back and forth as he tried to make a call.

“Damn, there’s no signal,” he complained. Looking around the room, we both noticed that there wasn’t a land line either.

“I guess I’ll head over to the front desk,” he said as he pulled some shorts and a tee shirt from his bag. “I know they’ve got a pay phone over there. I’ve got to find a guide who can take us to that village.”

“Okay,” I replied. “While your doing that I’m going to head down to the beach and have a quick swim.”

When my things were neatly put away I did just that. I changed into my swim trunks, stepped into some flip flops and threw a towel over my shoulder. A winding gravel path led through a grove of palm trees down to a beautiful white sand beach.

I kicked off my flip flops and wiggled my toes in the sand, then walked down to the water’s edge. It was bluish green and very clear. I savored the sensations of the cool water lapping at my feet and the warmth of the sun on my face. It was nice to be away from that pressure cooker of a university we attended.

Looking up and down the beach I spied a few other vacationers in the distance, laying on towels and taking in the sun. And about fifty yards down the beach, I also noticed that there was a stream of fresh water running down to the ocean from out of the thick tropical forest. Intrigued, I walked closer to take a look.

Cold, clear water spilled from the jungle, gurgling over a jumble of stones on it’s way to the sea. Standing on the bank of the stream, I peered into the tangle of greenery. A beaten path followed the burbling brook, and an overwhelming urge to follow it overcame me.

I didn’t hesitate. I entered the opening and after about ten strides the trees closed in on all sides, overhanging the small stream and blocking out the sun. I walked on in the dim light, curious as to what I would find at the end of the path.

After a five minute walk the path emerged from the jungle into a small clearing around a good sized pool of water. The stream I had been following ran from that pool, which itself was fed by a lovely waterfall falling down a high cliff face. And underneath of that waterfall was a young man, using it as his own personal shower!

Surprised, I stood in the gloom of the jungle for a moment and watched. He was totally nude, on the young side, maybe late teens, early twenties. His skin was dark brown, his hair cropped close to his head. I couldn’t help but admire his fit, athletic body. Supple muscles flexed as he scrubbed himself down with a bar of soap. The white suds were a sharp contrast to his dark skin as the water washed them down and away.

A breeze blew through the clearing, and the leaves and branches around me stirred and moved like a living thing. I don’t know why, or how, but it felt like I was being watched. Was there someone here besides me and this beautiful stranger? I nervously looked around, expecting to see someone hiding in the bushes, but no one was there. Reassured, my eyes returned to the beautiful young man before me, drinking in the sight of him.

As I stood there, thinking about what I should do, I felt an urge to move forward. I tried to ignore it, to shrug it off, but it only seemed to grow, becoming bigger and more insistent than ever. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore it!

I know it may sound weird, but it felt as if someone had taking control of me. Somehow, they were guiding my actions as if I were a puppet on a string! I found myself lurching forward, a passenger in my own body. I left my hiding place and entered the clearing, my feet moving on their own, my eyes glued to the nude form of the young man before me.

My footsteps must have alerted him as I moved ever closer. He turned suddenly and looked directly at me with hazel eyes that penetrated me to my very core. He was maybe twenty years old, his skin the color of coffee with just a touch of cream. He had high African cheek bones, a strong jaw and soft, sensuous lips.

“D’umbala be praised!” he exclaimed, a seductive smile stretching those luscious lips. Unconcerned with his nudity, he left his shower and slowly walked towards me. “Welcome! It was foretold that you would come, but you are much more fetching than I ever could have imagined!”

My eyes were locked on his, my feet were rooted to the ground, and my will was not my own. I was helpless as he came closer and his smile deepened. “You have been chosen. He has heard your prayers!” he informed me.

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. All I could do was stand there as he gently placed his hand on my package through my swim trunks. My cock instantly responded, swelling and hardening. “Dumbala be praised,” he whispered, falling to his knees before me.

Things were happening really fast, but I didn’t...I couldn’t resist as he pulled my swim trunks down and off and then carelessly tossed them to the side. My penis, which had been neglected for far too long, quickly extended to it’s full eight inch length when he took it in his hand.

I gazed down at him, feeling his hot breath on the head of my needy cock. He looked up into my eyes, his luscious lips just a few scant inches away. “D’umbala be praised,” he whispered again before sucking the head of my cock into his warm, willing mouth.

I whimpered with pleasure as he swirled his tongue around the head several times before plunging the entire length down his throat. My mind went blank and I moaned loudly as his hot wet mouth worshiped my erection, head slowly bobbing up and down, lips wrapped tightly around the shaft, tongue caressing the underside as his fingers lightly tickled my balls.

It didn’t take long before I was ready to come. I tried to hold off and prolong my pleasure, but he was much, much too good and it had been ages since I’d last had sex. I moaned as my balls tightened, my cock twitched and my cum began to spurt into his mouth. It was the most intense orgasm of my life. Shot after shot erupted from my throbbing penis and was quickly swallowed down by this handsome youth.

After such a stupendous orgasm, my wobbly legs would support me no longer. I collapsed, falling to my knees facing him. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into his arms and his lips met mine. Any thoughts about objecting were soon lost in his hot, luscious kisses. I could distinctly taste semen, my semen, on his invading tongue.

After several minutes of impassioned kissing he finally pulled away and stood up. He smiled down at me, vanquished at his feet, licked his lips and politely said, “Thank you sir. I enjoyed that so very much, but I am afraid that I must leave at once.”

He picked up a towel laying nearby and wrapped it around his waist. When he saw the expression on my face, he chuckled and quickly said, “Do not worry, we will be seeing each other again soon.”

Still dazed by my toe curling cum, I could only watch as he strode off into the jungle, leaving me there to gather myself together. I found my swim trunks where he’d tossed them and slowly pulled them up my legs as I tried to process what had just occurred. I’d just had sex with some handsome stranger and I hadn’t even thought to get his name!

I stumbled back down the path to the beach, still trying to wrap my head around things. Who was he? Did he work at the resort, or was he a guest? And most importantly, when would I see him again? My cock, which had been so thoroughly drained just a few minutes ago was already swelling with desire as I thought about him.

Lost in my thoughts, I stepped from the jungle and onto the beach where I bumped into Maurice, almost knocking him down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” I apologized.

“No harm done, Sir,” said Maurice as he brushed himself off. “I trust that you are enjoying yourself here at the resort? Everything has been to your...liking?” A knowing grin appeared on his face as he said this, as if he knew exactly what I had been up to.

I looked at him blankly for a moment before guiltily admitting, “Yeah, uh, everything’s great.” Did he know what had just occurred between me and that handsome stranger?

“Excellent! I’m so happy to hear it. Now if you will excuse me, I have some chores to attend to.”

I watched him walk away, wondering just how much he knew.

I arrived back at the Bungalow to find John waiting for me impatiently. “Where have you been all this time?” he demanded.

“Just taking a look around,” I lied uncomfortably. I could never tell John what had really happened.

“Well, while you were goofing off at the beach, I managed to find a guide to take us up to the village this evening. And even better, he says that the people in the village are planning a festival this very night to honor one of the local deities. I know for a fact our professor would give his left nut to see that ceremony! If we can film it, it would make this entire trip worthwhile!” crowed John. “We’d be guaranteed an instant A! We’re leaving in thirty minutes, so get ready!”

I groaned inwardly. I’d hoped to relax and go to bed early after our long plane flight. The last thing I wanted to do was take a strenuous hike up a mountain. But John, or his father, I should say, was footing the bill for this trip, so I had to do as I’d promised. I reluctantly showered, changed clothes, pulled on my hiking boots, put the camera, a tripod and a few spare batteries into my backpack and followed John over to the front desk.

“Our guide should be here any minute,” said John, looking impatiently at his watch. I sighed in resignation, thoroughly determined to dislike this little hike I was being forced to go on. But my attitude abruptly changed the moment our guide entered the lobby.

“Hello,” he said in his French accented English as he shook John’s hand. “My name is Andre, and I will be your guide to the village this evening.”

My jaw had dropped at the sight of him, and he must have noticed because he smiled and winked as he took my hand and shook it as if we were strangers. “Happy to meet you sir,” he said. I was floored. Our guide was none other that the man who’d just given me the best blow job of my life!

I took his cue and tried to act as if we’d only just met. I sure didn’t want John to know that our guide had been sucking my cock! Just the thought of it aroused me, and I gazed at the white shirt and khaki pants Andre was now wearing and tried not to fantasized about the nude body I knew was hidden underneath.

I shouldered my back pack and followed Andre and John out the door, trying unobtrusively to adjust myself inside of my pants. As we walked, John peppered Andre with many questions about the village and the festival we were about to attend.

“I was told that this isn’t really a village in the true sense of the word? Is that true?” asked John.

“Yes, you are correct,” said Andre. “It is what you would call a religious retreat, and it is only occupied for a few months out of the year. Right at this moment there are about fifty men staying there. They will all be gone in six days time.”

“Only men?” asked John. “No women?”

“No, only men can be acolytes and worshipers of D’umbala,” replied Andre. The name caught my ear. Andre had mentioned D’umbala several times when we’d first met by the waterfall.

“This D’umbala, he’s a local deity?” questioned John.

“Yes, he is only worshiped here on this island, but many men do come from the other islands to worship here,” admitted Andre.

“Does every one on the island worship D’umbala?” asked John.

Andre grinned. “No, not everyone,” he said at last.

I had a strong hunch that Andre wasn’t telling the whole truth, that he was holding something back, but I was forced to hold my tongue and concentrate on breathing. The trail had become very steep, and despite the fact that I was in pretty darn good shape, it took all I had just to keep up with him. John, who was not what you would call a gym rat, followed at the rear, huffing, puffing and sweating profusely. We had to stop several times for him to rest before we finally reached the crest, just as the sun was setting.

The village was a collection of small cinder block houses with metal roofs, arrayed around a central clearing with a large fire pit in the center. A large pile of wood was already stacked in the pit, and more was being piled next to it as we approached. The men stacking the wood were all of African decent, and most appeared to be in their twenties. According to what Andre had told us, they were all unmarried young men, looking for D’umbala’s blessing.

Andre hailed the men in french, and carried on an animated conversation with a few of them before turning back to us. “I was letting them know that you would be filming the ceremony, and they asked that you limit your filming to the clearing only. Before the ceremony starts you may interview any of the men here, but you will probably need me to translate. Very few of them speak English.”

After consulting with Andre, John decided on a spot to set the camera up, and I emptied the back pack and started to put things together. John pulled a Nikon camera from his pack and began to wander around the village, taking snap shots of anything of interest.

With John out of earshot, Andre finally approached me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you earlier, but please be patient. Everything will become clear to you later tonight. In the meantime, enjoy our celebration. I feel that you will find it most interesting.”

He smiled and squeezed my shoulder before walking off to help John interview some of the men. I watched him walk away, wondering what game he was playing. I’d have called him on it if I’d felt he was trying to take advantage of us, but I didn’t seem to get that vibe from him.

I finished setting up the camera and turned it on as all the men present began to gather around the fire pit. Coolers full of beer and soft drinks where wheeled out, and the men began to set up several large, round drums. John and Andre, done with the interviews, stood next to me as the fire was lit and the flames rose into the night. Beers where handed around and I gratefully accepted one and tipped it back, thirsty after our long hike.

Several men began to slowly beat the drums, and few others played an eerie tune on flutes. The men began to gather around the pit in a circle, moving to the drumbeat and chanting in french. I panned the camera over the crowd, taking in the taught bodies, the earnest expressions on their faces.

I became aware of the pungent aroma of marijuana, and sure enough a joint the size of a cigar was soon passed from one of the men to Andre. Andre sucked in the smoke and passed it to me. I don’t smoke a lot of pot, especially while I was busy studying at school, but I was no stranger to the wacky weed. I sucked a hit deep into my lungs and passed it along.

A mellow high soon overcame me, and the scene took on a surreal atmosphere, what with the shadows, the pounding drums, the flickering flames and the dancing bodies all adding to the mood. The drum beat picked up, and the dancers became frantic, obviously feeling some kind of religious ecstasy. I slowly panned the camera over the crowd to catch their reactions.

After a while the drums slowed, the dancers finally stood still and an old man smoking a pipe entered the the circle. It took me a few moments to realize that it was Maurice, from the front desk! He was wearing a white robe and carried a walking stick in one hand and his pipe in the other.

Beside me, I could here Andre explaining to John, “He is our Juju man. I guess you could call him a priest.”

The fire was to the Maurice’s back, and he ranted and raved in French to the crowd. The men shouted back encouragement and agreement as he spoke. I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but his speech apparently held great weight with the men.

He pointed with the stem of his pipe into the crowd, and two men were quickly pushed out into the middle of the circle. The dancers around them began to pound their feet and the drums started up again. I tightened the focus of the camera, trying to get a close up.

I gasped in astonishment. Both men’s eyeballs were rolled up inside of their heads! Only the whites of their eyes showed. Their faces were screwed up in agony...or was it ecstasy? It was hard to tell, what with the dancers moving all around, the drums pounding away and the fickle firelight only partially lighting this astonishing scene.

“They are possessed by the spirit of D’umbala,” Andre whispered in awe.

Both men where shirtless, wearing only shorts, their dark skin glistening with sweat, their bodies shivering and shaking as if they were freezing in the humid heat of that tropical place. I watched as several men emerged from the crowd and working together pulled the shorts down and off of the two men, leaving them standing naked in the middle of the circle.

The rhythm of the drums began to speed up as Maurice gave a last guttural shout in French, drew deeply from his pipe and expelled a huge cloud of smoke on the two. Their shaking increased, and amazingly, both men began to sprout erections!

I double checked the camera, not wanting to miss a second of this. Both men had full blown erections, their long, stiff penises waved to and fro as their bodies jerked uncontrollably. Maurice began to chant once again, and the drum beat slowed, every eye in the clearing focused on what was happening in the circle.

He again inhaled deeply off of his pipe and blew the smoke onto the quivering erections before him. Both men immediately began to ejaculate! Thick gobs of white sperm began to shoot high into the air from the two throbbing cocks! Again and again their seed shot out, until they finally collapsed into the arms of their fellow dancers.

And that is when it started to get crazy. A shout emerged from the throat of every man there, the drum beat picked up and clothes began to fly into the air. shirts, pants, you name it. In minutes half the crowd was nude, and dancing in a frenzy. With great surprise and pleasure I continued to record everything that I saw.

What I had earlier mistaken for brotherly love had now morphed into something a little harder, a little hotter. The men now did not hesitate to openly and unashamedly embrace or touch one another, even kissing one another with great passion. I also noticed, as time went by, how the dancers would frequently drift off in twos and threes into the cinder block houses or even the jungle, only to later reappear some time later and rejoin the dancing.

To say that I was surprised with how things were going was an understatement. I was totally shocked! When I’d signed up for this trip, I’d thought that we’d be making some sort of National Geographic type documentary about primitive peoples. But now it seemed as if I was filming some sort of Caribbean themed gay dance party!

With such a fascinating subject to work with time passed quickly. When I finally pulled away from the camera to rub my eyes I glanced over at Andre and John. They were both gone! I peered around, but they were nowhere to be seen. I’d like to have known where they’d gotten off to, but I had to tend to the camera. John would be pissed if I missed even a second of this.

I returned to filming, and it started to get to me. There were plenty of fit, attractive young men in that crowd, dancing in the nude, and obviously going off to have sex with one another. Earlier today, Andre had relieved the pressure, so to speak, but the erotic dancing, the weed I’d smoked, and the honest desire and affection that these men where showing for each other was taking it’s toll on me. I could feel my cock getting harder and harder, with no relief in sight.

Just as I was seriously considering joining the dancers I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Andre, standing beside me as I worked the camera. “Where’s John?” I asked, noticing the fresh grass stains on the knees of his khaki pants.

“I do not know,” he replied carelessly. “But I am sure he is alright. No one would ever hurt him in this most sacred of places.” I don’t know why, but I believed him. I had a feeling that I could trust Andre.

His hand hadn’t left my shoulder, and he stepped closer to me where I was bent over the camera. “You poor man,” he said sympathetically as his hands began to knead my shoulders. “You’ve been filming all night without a break. You look like you could use a rub.”

Andre was so very right. Bending over the camera for hours had made my back ache. I tried to stifle my gasps of pleasure as his strong hands worked magic on my tight, aching shoulder muscles.

I continued to film as he rubbed my back, panning the camera over the crowd, taking it all in. Men kissing men. Men holding hands and embracing. Men going off into the bushes to fuck other men. How I wish I could be there when our professor saw this film. I had a very strong hunch that after it’s first viewing it would be buried so deep under that college that it would never again see the light of day.

Andre stepped closer still, pressing his groin against my butt. I could feel his hard penis inside of his pants, rubbing against my backside. I gasped in surprise when his hands wandered from my shoulders to my front where his fingers found and stroked the outline of my hard cock through my pants.

With trembling fingers I tried to steady the camera, filming the revelers around the fire pit as Andre’s nimble fingers quickly unbuckled my belt, popped the button and pulled down my zipper. My fully erect penis fell out into the night air.

A sudden movement caught my eye, and I caught a glimpse of John, dancing around the fire! I tried to zoom in on him, but I lost him in the milling crowd. Andre took my cock in his hand and I quickly forgot all about John.

Andre took his time with my cock, first touching it all over with fingers as soft as a butterfly’s kiss, then weighing and lightly squeezing my balls, and then firmly taking the shaft in his hand and slowly and lovingly jacking me off, all while he continued to grind his rock hard cock against my backside.

God, he was as good at hand jobs as he was at blow jobs. He stroked me fast, he stroked me slow, he teased me unmercifully and took me to the edge three times, all while whispering into my ear about how much he had enjoyed sucking my cock and how much he would enjoy having me return the favor later on.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and with a guttural groan I began to cum, spraying the tripod and the ground in front of me with my seed. When every last drop had been drained from me, Andre carefully tucked my cock back in my pants, zipped them up and wandered off to talk with a few of the men.

Drained of my lust for the time being, I was able to continued filming the festival. Over the next few hours, I would occasionally catch glimpses of John around the fire, but he always somehow managed to lose himself in the crowd. Finally, as the sky began to turn light and the fire burned low, the battery died and the camera went dark.

As I pulled it apart and packed it in my bag, Andre walked over to one of the coolers and grabbed two beers. “Here you go, man,” he said as he handed me a beer. “You look pretty beat.”

I wasn’t just beat, I was destroyed. Except for my cat nap on the flight, I hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours and for the last five or six I’d been bending over the camera. I told Andre that I needed to get back to my room, and he offered to show me the way.

The sun was just creeping over the edge of the horizon as Andre and I made our way down the mountain. I wasn’t sure where John had wandered off to during the night, but he would have to wait. I’d done my job and now I needed to catch up on some much needed shut eye.

On the way, I quizzed Andre about D’umbala, and what the festival was really about. As I’d come to suspect, D’umbala was considered a god of love on this island. A love god for men who loved other men. The festival, he explained, was intended to help young unattached men find partners. As he talked, I couldn’t help but recall how Andre had avoided mentioning those facts to John earlier.

When we reached the bungalow I invited Andre inside to share my bed. He accepted my offer, and of course I made sure to return the favor, as was only fair. I finally fell asleep in his arms an hour or so later.

I awoke the next day in the late, late afternoon. I was alone. Andre was nowhere to be seen, and neither was John. Had it all been a dream? Had I imagined it all?

I stretched and sat up, and it was then that I noticed the opened bottle of lube on the night table next to the bed. No, it hadn’t been a dream. After we’d returned from the village, Andre and I had made passionate love before falling asleep.

Pleasant memories of last night filtered through my mind as I picked up the note lying next to the lube. It was a folded piece of paper with several lines of neatly written text. It was from Andre, and it asked me to meet him at the waterfall when I awoke.

I took a quick shower, dressed in my swim trunks and grabbed a towel and an apple from the fruit bowl to munch on as I headed out the door. It was a short trip to the beach, and then a couple of minutes more to walk the path alongside the gurgling brook to the clearing where I first met Andre.

Long before I could see it, I could hear the sound of falling water. I quickened my steps, looking forward to my rendezvous with Andre. I had many questions that I hadn’t had a chance to ask him last night.

I emerged from the jungle into the clearing, and Andre was nowhere to be seen. But there was somebody else was under the waterfall! He was white, and slim, and very nude. I felt a strange sense of deja vu as I watched him washing his body with the same bar of soap that Andre had used the day before. His back was to me at first, so I was slow to recognize him.

He was well built, and I couldn’t help but admire the tight, dimpled behind and the fit muscular thighs for a moment before he turned slightly so I could see his profile. I almost choked on the apple I’d been munching on. It was John! What was he doing here? And where had he been all night?

He hadn’t seen me yet, so I slowly backed up into the gloom of the jungle, unsure of how to proceed. It was then that I felt it again. That feeling of being watched, like there was a third person in the clearing. And just like yesterday, I began to feel a growing urge to move forward, to leave my hiding place and step out into the light. Once again I found that my legs were not my own. I entered the clearing and slowly closed the distance between us.

John seemed completely unaware that I was was even there. He continued lathering himself up as I moved ever closer, the thick foamy soap suds washing down his lithe, toned body.

I stepped ever closer until I finally wrapped my arms around his slim waist, pressing my body against his. He jumped a little, confirming the fact that he hadn’t known I was behind him.

A quick glance over his shoulder told him who it was holding him. A very pleased smile crossed his face. He placed his hands over top of mine and snuggled back into my embrace. A gasp escaped his lips when he felt the stiff cock inside of my swim trunks pressing against his bare backside.

It was like a dream, only it was real. I had fantasized oh so many times about John over the years, and now here he was in my arms! My hand slid down his flat, hard belly, through his soft, curly pubic hair and took hold of his cock. Half hard when I first touched it, John’s penis quickly stiffened into a full blown erection.

Turning in my arms, he looped his arms around my neck. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, tongues greedily exploring. I pulled his body closer to mine. Our hips ground together, hard cocks separated only by the thin fabric of my swim trunks.

He finally pulled back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to mine. Looking up at me with those dreamy brown eyes of his he panted, “Oh Bill, you’ve not idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, but I never dared. Who would have thought that you were gay too?”

His words both shocked me to the core and filled me with the utmost joy. Was it Christmas? Not only had my secret crush just admitted to being gay, he’d also just admitted to crushing on me as well! Could life be any sweeter?

It had to be the happiest moment of my life, by far. But even so, in the back of my mind I still felt a nagging doubt. There had been so many girlfriends. John had been straight, I was sure of it. Why now, and here? But then his lips returned to mine, and all was quickly forgotten as I lost myself in his hot, wet mouth.

Words cannot express how turned on I was. My hands explored, greedily feeling for every inch of his body. It was so incredibly erotic to finally have my forbidden fruit, the man of my dreams. We continued to make out for a good while longer underneath of that waterfall, desperately trying to make up for two years of wasted time.

Eventually it occurred to me that there was something else I’d longed to kiss. I reluctantly pulled my lips from his and without a word dropped to my knees in front of him. John seemed to know what was coming and a smile came to his lips. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the stone as the water continued to pour down over the two of us.

I found myself face to face with a sturdy cock that was about 7 inches long. I studied it closely, fascinated by the sight of it. I’d probably spurted gallons of cum jerking off to thoughts about John and this cock. And now here it was, hard, hot and only an inch or so from my watering mouth!

It was slightly curved, and capped by a large helmet shaped head. A small drop of pre-cum clung to the tip of that fat cock, and I didn’t

hesitate. I reached out my tongue and lovingly licked the salty treat

from the head. I savored the flavor for a moment before I began to plant row after row of kisses up and down his shaft.

I took my time and paid lots of close attention to his cock, carefully and lovingly kissing, licking and sucking on every square inch. I’d waited for over two years for a taste, so I damn well intended to enjoy myself! John let out a long, low moan of pure pleasure, and it turned me on to no end. I took my own stiff cock in my hand and began to stroke it.

Words cannot express my delight as I swirled my tongue around and around the head and then up and down the length of his shaft. John, of course, liked it too, and he continued to moan and slowly pump his hips.

I finally settled down to a steady rhythm, bobbing my head up and down as I fondled his balls, gently tickling them with my fingertips. I used the index finger of my other hand to slowly and gently caress John’s anus. My finger lightly circled his ring for a moment before slowly sinking deep inside.

From the ease with which first one, then two fingers slipped inside of him it was pretty obvious that somebody had been recently using this hole. The young men of the village, I surmised. I wondered how many as I continued to suck his cock.

When I added a third finger John’s breath became deep and ragged and it was clear that something was about to happen. “Oh, Bill! I’m gonna cum!” he moaned.

I’d been longing to hear those words for years. I’d dreamed of this moment. I wanted to make John cum, and he needed to shoot all of it into my mouth. There was no way I wasn’t going to eat his load!

I didn’t stop sucking, and soon I felt his thick, viscous semen spurting into my mouth. I suckled on the head as he filled my mouth full of his thick, salty fluids. I savored the flavor for a moment before I swallowed, then continued sucking until every last drop had been milked from his balls.

I rose to my feet and we embraced. He kissed me deeply, and when he pulled back he gazed up at me with those dreamy brown eyes of his. “Oh, so that’s what I taste like! No wonder you drank it all down!” he said mischievously.

While John had been dumping his load in my mouth, I’d somehow managed to stop masturbating before I came as well. I tried to fit my raging erection back into my pants as I picked up a towel and tossed it to John. “Lets head back to the room,” I suggested. “Put your pants on and lets go.”

We had nine more days left to enjoy ourselves before we had to return to civilization, and I intended to make the most of every second that we had left. And to start it all off I intended to fuck John long and hard on our bed in the bungalow. John pulled his shorts over that delectable ass of his and we headed back to our room.

On the way we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Needless to say, it took us a while for us to make it down that path. When we finally stumbled out onto the beach, we were surprised to find Maurice and Andre waiting for us, grinning from ear to ear. We stood there blinking in the light as they moved forward and handed us each a glass. Champagne was poured for all and Maurice proposed a toast.

“To our lovely couple!” said Maurice, raising his glass high “By D’ambala’s will, you who were two are now one. May it ever be so!”

We all took a deep drink and I have to say that it was probably the best champagne I have ever tasted in my entire life. They refilled our glasses and we all walked back to our bungalow, laughing and talking the whole way.

“Congratulations!”“ said Maurice and Andre when they finally left. “We are so happy for the two of you! Praise be to D’umbala!

As soon as the door was shut John and I were in each others arms, lips locked, hands roaming. When we finally came up for air, John chuckled and said, “I thought they’d never leave! I wanted to be nice, but all that mumbo jumbo about D’umbala! It’s kind of quaint at first, but after a while it starts to grate on you.”

I paused from planting a line of kisses down his throat and grabbing his stiff cock through his swim trunks to give him an incredulous look and ask, “What?! After everything that’s happened, you don’t believe that D’umbala could exist?”

“Of course not!” giggled John as I slid his trunks down his legs and then pushed him back on the bed. “And I don’t believe in Santa Claus either.”

I shed my clothes, pushed his legs apart, climbed onto the bed between them and grabbed the nearby container of lube.

“Come on now, Bill,” he explained as I slathered the lube onto my fingers before applying it first to my raging erection and then to his little puckered brown hole. “We live in the modern world, where all this supernatural stuff was debunked by science years ago. Please tell me you don’t believe in that guff!”

I smiled down at him, lying on his back, his legs spread, his penis fully erect and the angry red head of my throbbing cock pressed against his tight little hole. A dream come true. It was then that I felt a familiar feeling coming over me. An urge to move forward.

Knowing that it was useless to resist, I obeyed. My cock slowly pushed inside, piercing deep into the tightest, hottest, most velvety smooth ass I had yet encountered. John looked up at me with those dreamy brown eyes of his, his lips forming an O as I sank ever deeper. I lay down on top of him, covering his body with mine as my hips began to move. “Praise be to D’umbala!” I groaned loudly before shutting him up with a kiss.